SIXTIETH 
BIRTHDAY 
SOUVENIR 



SIXTIETH 
BIRTHDAY 
SOUVENIR 






MARSHALL M. CLOTHIER 

PRAIRIE, WASHINGTON 

DECEMBER 12, 1902 



UBftAh'Y ...t CONGRESS 
Two Ctipietj Received 

MAR 22 1904 



Ca(#yright Entry 



5!a^-vu^n.. 







Copyrighted. 



Sixtieth Birthday Souvenir 

Marshall H. Clothier 

Columbua, M, Y, Prairie, Wasliington 
Dec. 1, 1842 Dec- 12, 1902 

"Nothing is sure for man but Oblivion "— 
'Tis just as well. 

Sixty years farewell to these 

Six decades — Life's sunset nigh, 

Time hath taught us reason why 

Hearts may keep young, though record old, 

Per contra sometimes much is told, 

Much is understood, we need not tell 

Mind unimpaired — 'tis just as well. 

My mother lives, I am not old, 
Matters not, the course we trend, 
Mother's love is more than friend. 
No call to Mother made in vain ; 
Can I see her face again ? 
These many years, hope rose and fell, 
Abiding still — 'tis just as well. 



Trends our thoughts in years long flown, 
Yea, memory wells from vale and brook, 
Schoolmaster's bell, eye on your book, 
That Beech, its vital withy part 
Left sore impressions on our heart. 
Pinned fast with thorns, Jane and Nell, 
Forgotten by any — 'tis just as well. 



Would fish betimes — with playmates nigh. 
Angling is best in rainy spell. 
Luck in clouds, and all went well; 
'Twas clouded luck, for one and all 
When master found we fished at all; 
Game, frisky lads, too, often fell, 
Screened in fog— 'tis just as well. 



In our teens, time, passing slow 
Though light the years so long. 
Tireless restives, hale and strong. 
Regaled and met in mirth and tears. 
Electric cords bind all these years, 
Our early loves, ah, who will tell. 
Leaf turned down — 'tis just as well. 



Age, eighteen years. Hark, beardless boy 

Breeze of spring wafts roll of drum, 

Our country calls her sons to come. 

Yea, come, though vengeful fate may be 

Seeks the life of boy like me. 

Bones have bleached where soldiers fell; 

Edict of fate — 'tis just as well. 



A soldier's fate befell my sire. 

Forty years' frost and bloom 

Has crowned the soldiers' lonely tomb. 

Forty years' peace hath shed 

Its hallowed requiem o'er the dead. 

Sad, blighted home, thine tears that fell 

Transfixed in memory — 'tis just as well. 



We lived to mourn a father slain. 
What hence to him ? A nation's need. 
What are wounds that ache and bleed? 
What are campaigns lost and won 
When the course of life is run; 
Nor roar of guns, nor bursting shell; 
No troubled rest — 'tis just as well. 



" There are faces we fondly recall," 
Of those death shrouds the most; 
Spares a wanderer on the coast; 
Eternity of rest; no harp may thrill. 
Remembrance has warmed our heart and will 
Doom everlasting, aye, none can tell. 
Earth claims its own — 'tis just as well. 



Fourteen years sojourn; God bless the Illinois 
Schoolmates, and neighbors settled here; 
None on earth to us so dear 
Save our mother and next of kin. 
In such surroundings we should win; 
To win, for sooth, time's annals tell; 
Changed conditions — 'tis just as well. 



"Man proposes, but God disposes;" 
Honors were our's, no foes were there 
Yea, warm the greeting everywhere, 
Keepsake in gold, notes time for me, 
Heritage of honor, stainless, free; 
Jewels intrinsic, tears that fell; 
Friends must part — 'tis just as well. 



England's traditions ne'er forgot, 
Nor rolling prairies, broad and grand, 
Nor heart ties in our boyhood land, 
Exchanged for toil, among the trees, 
Oh, zephyrs, wafted in ocean breeze; 
Fading trail of the Indian, Savage Correll, 
Sunset land — 'tis just as well. 



Lone cabin, crudely rived from logs. 

No aid, nor boards to make it 

Storm proof; lone man could shake it; 

That wood rat, he of bushy tail 

And skunk, whose coming seldom fail, 

Job lot of varmints, sad to tell. 

Called to die — 'tis just as well. 



From stranger lands to stranger scenes 
People pressed to file their claims. 
Few gained their purposed aims. 
Primeval toil, per force must be, 
Life of hardship, no homestead free. 
One sequel, in reflective spell. 
Pioneer's lot — 'tis just as well. 



Our rifle, inanimate friend at hand, 
Eye deftly turned that way, 
Alway true, night and day, 
Patrolled a blazed trail with me 
Strange tracks about, naught to see. 
'Tis midnight we hear the cougar yell. 
Day time he sleeps — 'tis just as well. 



An Indian took the gun away. 

Tell me not of honest Lo. 

I loaned that gun — let it go. 

No sooner gone than unawares 

We would meet wild cats and bears. 

Only losing a gun, might worse befell. 

Lost the Siwash — 'tis just as well. 



Egyptian darkness, wind and snow. 
The panther 's cry is at our door. 
Calf that was, is calf no more; 
Storm and sleet, mud and rain, 
Traps for varmints set in vain. 
Tempest tossed, great trees fell; 
No place like home — 'tis just as well. 



Fields were cleared; yea roads were made; 

Ho, neighbor's cabin, cheerful view; 

Years have sped since first we knew 

A Cruso life, lone, wild and rude — 

A home all masked in solitude; 

Graves unkeptfor settlers fell; 

Homely graves — 'tis just as well. 



Death message thrills the quivering wire, 
Our daughter, in agonies smothered moan. 
And dying, grieves, her father gone. 
Black clouds about in every part. 
Storm beat fiercest in our heart, 
Sense of grief no tongue may tell. 
Borne alone — 'tis just as well. 



Rifts in clouds betimes might be, 
A timely aid our efforts gave 
Wounded neighbors, lives to save, 
Anon, where fate had dealt a blow 
From, our stores bounty we'd bestow, 
But all, in all, our spirit fell 
Growing old — 'tis just as well. 



Cares increased while marking time, 
A panic raged on every hand 
Excessive tax on wilderness land, 
Oh! Man of ample means forehanded, 
Gleanings of by-gone years stranded, 
Few could buy, nay, few could sell, 
A memory now — 'tis just as well. 



Some things borne are hard to bear, 
When fortune wanes and purse is low. 
Wavering friend is worse than foe. 
Who tenders a hand when banks suspend, 
With courage and vim, he's our friend; 
Weaklings should cleave, Judas fell. 
Pell for keeps — 'tis just as well. 



The darkest hour precedes the dawn, 
Worried brain, e'en death may lurk. 
The vital hour, the end of work 
May be at hand inflame the load, 
When called to harvest that we sowed; 
Wave or wavelet, none could tell. 
Veiled in sorrow — 'tis just as well. 



The only wealth is youth and health, 
Deprived of these, state that you dare? 
And poor, indeed, is the millionaire 
Bereft of friends, ere life is shorn; 
The heart's grim poverty must be borne, 
Sad echoes of a tolling bell, 
Revive again — 'tis just as well. 



"Man's bounds are set, he cannot pass,' 
Priests may condone — believers pray, 
Creeds of the fathers, evoluting away, 
Changeless the road justice hath trod. 
Justice to man is justice to God. 
God's book, oh. Nature, study may tell, 
Alway open — 'tis just as well. 



Translated invoice of three score years, 

A magnet in the mortal mind 

Points one code, for all mankind. 

Creeds and Isms are as naught; 

The soul receives for that it wrought. 

On non-essentials, yea, we dwell 

Aim high and true — 'tis just as well. 



stand by and view Niagara^s bridge, 
We believe, aye, know, admire in awe 
The Architect we never saw. 
Stand by the shore of surging sea, 
Oh, infidel, who bends no knee 
And deny Deity; if be a hell 
For shameless fools — 'tis just as well. 



Destiny there be, shapes our lives; 

Some mornings gloomy and clouds o'ercast 

The sun, in noontides, tempest blast. 

Ere daylight blends and fades in night, 

Comes glory of Nature's god in sight, 

Hope on, hope ever, yet a spell 

Sun shines at last — 'tis just as well. 



We meet, we hail, and pass on. 
The mariner discerns in darkest night. 
Reflecting from shore the harbor light, 
Nor thinks of reefing storm-rent sails 
When seas swept the rails, ^^ 

Waves might break, roll and swell. 
Almost home— 'tis just as well. 



Let the flag be my winding sheet, 

It matters not where I am laid, 

A debt to Nature must be paid, 

Faults can't survive, some good has been 

Left heritage to my fellow men; 

"Believe, ye, this, the creed of creeds." 

All we leave is noble deeds — 'tis just as well. 






Gleanings From a Busy Life 



Dedicated To My Children 



The love of a child is pure. 



Friend and neisrhbor are relative terms. 



To be homeless is to have no one to love. 



A brave man is compassionate and just. 



If a man's word be good, his bond is super- 
fluous. 

Conceit and deceit predominate in human 
affairs. 

Our children grow dearer as we approach 
the great unknown. 



To speak a lie is sin, to act a lie is villainy. 



Death utilizes passions of men to hasten its 
harvest. 

The most unfeeling tyrant is an ungovern- 
able child. 

A wholesome precept well defined lives on 
through the ages. 

In associating with women, remember your 
mother and sister. 

Pride and vanity are foster parents of dis- 
honor and humiliation. 



There is no ownership, styled property. 
Conditional tenure is all. 



Without culture, adults are children handi- 
capped by weight and time. 



The road to man's favor is through his 
stomach; woman's, her heart. 



Ageing depends on conditions; some are 
comparatively old at forty, others young at 
sixty. 



Betwixt the drug store and the morgue, 
there exists a strange affinity. 



Not every hero of the battlefield can fight 
successfully the battle for bread. 



He that delves in the phenomena of Nature's 
laws, communes with the Omnipotent. 



The soldier that disclaims sense of dread or 
fear in mortal combat, is a liar or a fool. 



When domestic troubles afflict the rich, 
their very wealth is the gall of poverty. 



Paternal affection, the gem of life, demon- 
strates the same in all the animal kingdom. 



The higher a man's abilities rise above his 
surroundings, the more his faults are seen. 



Avarice and greed are twins. Peed them 
and the soul that nourished them is doomed. 



If you would tell what you hear, the man- 
ner of telling is as important, as choice of 
language. 



In fighting the battle of hfe, stand to your 
guns at all times and under all circumstances. 



Those that educate their feet must pay the 
fiddler. Educate the head and the fiddler 
must pay. 

The faults of your neighbor may, after all, 
be as surface blemishes on the stone of a tall, 
stately pyramid. 

He that swerves from his convictions to 
gain public favor, is like a hound that leaves 
the trail of a deer to play with an adder. 



Why should man fear to die? It is as natu- 
ral to die as to be born. Death often comes 
as relief to him whom freedom cannot release; 
as comforter to him whom time cannot console. 

Licensing by law the manufacture of spir- 
itous liquors, and then having recourse to law 
to prohibit its use, is a climax in moral 
perfidy. 

Man comes to the world more forlorn than 
the insect; more helpless than the brute, and 
in the zenith of his power he may learn from 
the ant and the bee. 



Were there no warring elements there 
would be neither fruit nor flowers ; neither 
full fruition in manhood nor joy in life. 



Usage and training is everything. The 
mother that cast her child to the Ganges 
obeyed dictate of right as she saw the right. 



A wise man never speaks disparagingly of 
any woman's character; yielding heart and 
person to man is more than angels can bestow. 



The end of our journey is near, let us do 
what good we can, we will not come this way 
again. 




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